


The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword- According to Tony Stark

by mage_girl



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fury hates paperwork, M/M, What cellist in Portland?, author has no regrets, don't mess with the Avengers, icon images turned sideways, it's science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:31:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mage_girl/pseuds/mage_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nick Fury gets his just desserts for lying to the Avengers.</p><p>In which Tony Stark makes a luminous Princess Leia.</p><p>In which there is no cellist in Portland.</p><p>In which the pen is, indeed, mightier than the sword.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword- According to Tony Stark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/gifts).



Tony was at a business meeting when his phone vibrated. Knowing that he wouldn’t be disturbed unless it was an emergency (an Avengers emergency, natch), he checked the message with a frown.

He read it, and looked at the gentleman across from him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, gently. ‘I need to reschedule the rest of this meeting. Let me get Pepper for you and we’ll get this back on the calendar as soon as we can.’

The man looked about ready to protest but then he noticed Tony’s face was white as paper and he looked as though he were in shock. ‘Are you alright, Mr. Stark?’ he inquired, his ire fading away as Tony stared at him, not understanding him for a moment.

‘I’ll...be fine...thank you. I have to go,’ said Tony. He stood up, shook the man’s hand, and walked out the door to where Pepper was standing.

‘Pepper, I’m sorry. I have to go. Can you reschedule a week or so out? It’s...’ Tony paused and he couldn’t find the words.

Pepper raised her eyebrows and put a hand on his arm. ‘What is it?’ she asked him, worried. 

Tony shook his head and showed her the message. She read it and then looked at him, her eyes wide with shock. ‘Tony...go...and please, let me know...I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

Tony kissed her cheek and smiled at her. ‘Thanks, Pep. I appreciate it. I’ll see you soon.’ 

He walked out to the elevator and, as soon as the doors opened onto the garage level, Happy was there with the car. He silently thanked Pepper again, and got into the back. Happy didn’t ask any questions but just drove out of the garage as quick as he could.

*****

Tony stepped into the living room and looked at his team. Steve had his arms folded and was leaning against the couch. Bruce was sitting in the chair opposite him, trembling. Natasha was pacing in small circles near the balcony and Barton...

Barton was curled up next to someone Tony had never thought he’d see again.

Phil Coulson. Agent Coulson, Tony amended.

‘Uh...Hi, there, Agent Coulson. Or do I call you Jesus Coulson now? Because you did one hell of a job with being dead and all. Can I call you J.C.? Because that sounds kind of snappy. J.C., it even fits with the initials, you sly fox, you,’ said Tony, his tone sharp.

Clint looked up at Tony and there was such agony and relief in his eyes, he looked like a Pieta himself from the Renaissance age. ‘Tony...don’t...’he entreated, softly.

‘Don’t? Don’t? Why not? We...we thought he died. We thought Loki killed him with that glowstick of destiny. We were told by...’ Tony’s voice trailed off once he realized no one was listening to him and he took the time to look, really look, at his teammates.

Steve was shell shocked. His blue eyes were glazed over slightly; he looked like he realized that everything he’d been told was a lie. It wasn’t far off from the truth.

Bruce was keeping his temper in check, as much as he could, anyway. Tony could see hurt and confusion in his eyes as well as anger that had his irises turning green at the edges.

If Bruce was molten lava, Natasha was polar ice. Cold fury radiated from her as she snuck glances at Coulson and kept her face carefully blank from revealing any expression.

He turned to look at Coulson who was so tired looking and the lines on his face were a combination of exhaustion, pain, and worry as he met Tony’s eyes without flinching, accepting the anger there.

Tony’s shoulders slumped. ‘What happened? Can you tell us what happened? Or is that classified as well? Is this something you planned? Was this one grand scheme to have us play nice? The truth, for once, would be appreciated by all of us.’

Coulson smiled a little and shifted, his arm around Barton’s shoulder tightening as Barton clutched frantically at Coulson’s shirt, not wanting to let go for an instant.

Tony watched the interplay between Coulson and Barton and realized that there was much more he wasn’t aware of; their behavior was that of a couple, not of handler and agent. And then, Tony was confused. What was that about a cellist in Portland? One thing at a time, he decided. He’d ask about the non existent cellist later; there were bigger fish to fry.

Coulson soothed Barton, kissing the top of his head, and then said, ‘The truth....the truth is, I knew you were all falling apart. I knew that your personality, Bruce’s avoidance and anger issues, Steve’s fragility, Natasha’s willfulness, and Barton being compromised...I knew that it would drive you apart and with Loki having the luxury to pick you off one by one, it would also drive you away from each other and you wouldn’t be who you could be...who I knew you could be...I told Fury my concerns. I told him that we had, finally, the best team we could have dreamed of to do what we couldn’t do. We also had Thor and even though he loves his brother, he wouldn’t stand by and let him tear apart what he held dear. I thought that you would be able to pull it together, in the end. Even when everyone else thought you would spin off into different orbits...I knew better. I didn’t know what Fury was going to do. I didn’t know he’d go that far. Did he say I died?’ asked Coulson.

Tony thought back and then looked at everyone else. For the first time, Steve looked like the strategist he was; his eyes narrowed as he considered Coulson’s words.

‘He said...he didn’t actually say you died,’ Steve said, slowly, looking at Tony for confirmation. ‘He said that the medics called it.’

‘Yeah...and throwing your vintage cards on the table with your blood on them was a nice finishing touch, ‘added Tony, not caring that he was burning Fury’s bridges with him standing on it. Good. See how he liked it.

For the first time, Coulson looked like he was going to cry. ‘My vintage cards? My Captain America vintage cards?’ he whispered.

‘Oh...oh...uh...’ said Tony, at a loss, seeing the sheen in Coulson’s eyes. ‘Ah, shit,’ he muttered.

Steve smiled at Coulson, the first smile anyone had seen since Tony arrived at the tower. It was a little wobbly but it was real; Tony was relieved and saw a small smile grace Natasha’s lips as well, and Bruce had stopped trembling.

‘Agent Coulson, I’ll get you a new set of cards and I will sign every single one of them. You’ll sit right across from me as I do so,’ he said, firmly. ‘You have my word.’

Tony, not to be outdone, said, ‘And as soon as they’re signed, I’m sealing those motherfuckers in a special resin. So they’ll never fade, never get damaged, the ink will never lose its colour. Jarvis, get on that, will you? Special resin for trading cards, on the double!’ he called out.

‘My pleasure, sir. And may I say, Agent Coulson, it is good to see you again. I thought I’d never hear your voice again,’ said Jarvis.

‘Yeah, yeah....look at that, my own AI has better manners than me,’ muttered Tony.

‘Stark, an orangutan has better manners than you,’ snickered Barton, his eyes sparkling again.

‘You wanna go there, Mr. Underpants? Because, really, I’m sure we could pull up some footage of your almost naked ass wandering around the tower at all hours of the night,’ returned Tony with a grin.

‘Let’s get back on track,’ said Bruce, his voice rough but the green had disappeared from his irises and he was back to looking like the zen scientist Tony sees around the tower on a regular basis.

‘Yes, let’s,’ echoed Natasha, her voice a shade warmer than the arctic wind. ‘So Fury never actually said Coulson died, am I correct, gentlemen?’ she asked.

Tony and Steve looked at each other; both of them still recalling the horror they felt as the blood stained cards slapped down in front of them stuck to the table; the blood not even congealed, running down the edges and onto the glass surface. 

‘No,’ said Tony, hoarsely, rubbing his hands over his eyes, trying to shred the memory as well. ‘No...he said that Coulson believed in us...believed what we could do,’ he said, softly.

Steve nodded in agreement.

‘Ok, then. So Fury’s a big fat liar, who knew?’ said Natasha almost flippantly. Barton winced and buried his face against Coulson’s neck.

‘Not us,’ said Steve. ‘And not Coulson,’ he added, seeing Coulson’s look of disbelief dissolve into something far more disturbing.

‘So now what do we do?’ asked Bruce.

Tony felt a smirk appear on his face, one that Natasha approved of and that Barton shuddered at.

‘Let me handle this, boys and girl,’ Tony said. ‘Me and Bruce. After all, it’s science, bitches!’ he said triumphantly as Bruce and him exchanged a gleeful look.

Coulson groaned. ‘Tony...’

‘Agent, and yes, you are Agent to me still, so get used to it, Agent, trust me. I will be careful, I will be conscientious, I will be my usual brilliant self,’ said Tony.

He was ignoring Barton’s comment of, ‘I didn’t know Stark knew the meaning of the word, ‘conscientious.’’ 

He snickered when he heard Natasha murmuring in return, ‘I didn’t know you did, Clint.’

Coulson sighed and then winced as his chest twinged in response. ‘Just...be careful,’ he repeated to Tony.

Tony smiled at him. ‘But of course, Agent Coulson. I will be as careful of him as he was of us and our feelings.’ He turned to Barton who was grinning wickedly. ‘So...Barton...can I borrow your air vent skills for a little while?’

Clint, who had looked worriedly at Coulson when he’d winced and had placed a careful hand on Coulson’s chest, said, ‘Whenever and whatever you need, Stark. I’m your man.’

‘I was hoping you’d say just that.’

*****

Fury sighed. He had had the day of days. He’d been on the phone with Coulson for the last hour, listening to Phil tell him how inconsiderate it was and manipulative to let the Avengers think he’d died when he’d only been in a special medical lab until he was strong enough to be transferred to a private room in the S.H.I.E.L.D. hospital. Even then, he was put under strict watch and it never occurred to him that it was because Fury had LIED to his team.

Fury had let Phil have his diatribe without interrupting. He knew he deserved it; his manipulations did what they were supposed to do and the end result was the world was a safer place. He didn’t regret that and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He had a harder time not regretting the trust lost between him and Coulson. He figured this would go on down to all the Avengers and he had no illusions that there wouldn’t be repercussions with Barton and Natasha as well.

He really needed a drink.

Instead, he sighed and glared at the paperwork that was stacked onto his desk. He was certain it had been done by some malicious paper elf. Every time he left the office and came back, there was something in triplicate to sign. He was sure he was personally responsible for the deforesting of trees in the states of Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona combined. Just size wise, that is. He wasn’t sure Arizona had enough trees to count. He decided to throw in Colorado, just to be safe.

The paperwork wasn’t going to disappear and he decided he might as well get on it. He couldn’t stall much longer, even though it amused him to think of states, trees, and entire areas deforested by his own bureaucratic needs. He picked up the pen that was sitting on the top of the stack and began signing his name. He spent the next twenty minutes signing triplicate papers, and official documents, and status reports. He skimmed over budget requests and reimbursements and scribbled his name on those as well. By the time the pile had been taken care of, his fingers ached from gripping the pen, and he was ready to take a break.

He had sorted the papers into piles and then had put them into the proper interoffice envelopes. He set the envelopes in the ‘out’ box with grim satisfaction. There. That took care of that mess. Now, where was that drink?

*****

A week later, Fury was going over some top secret schematics when there was a knock on the door. ‘Come in,’ he sighed. He was expecting this; the appointment had been made a few days ago.

The door opened and Tony Stark strolled in, his demeanor nonchalant and his posture relaxed. Fury relaxed as well; if Stark was calm, then perhaps there wasn’t anything to worry about. He was wondering when one of the Avengers would show up. He figured he should thank his lucky stars that Thor was still absent; he was tying up loose ends on Asgard with Loki and the Tesseract. 

Tony sat down across from him and picked up the black pen that Fury had been using the past week for signatures. Fury liked this pen and wondered where it came from. It fit his hand nicely, the ink flowed smoothly, and his hand didn’t cramp up as bad as it did from other pens. He noticed it had a neat aerodynamic shape and its barrel was a polished ebony sheen. It was elegant for a pen and Fury liked elegance. 

‘Agent Coulson has moved into the tower,’ Tony said, twirling the pen in his fingers like a drum major gone wild. ‘He has a nice room, can watch all the ‘Supernanny’ he wants, and has taken to helping Steve cook in the kitchen. It’s a nice arrangement.’

Fury nodded. ‘I’m glad he’s adapting well,’ he said, cautiously. He didn’t miss the gleam in Tony’s eyes or how his fingers had tightened on the pen as he made it dance from finger to finger tip. 

‘Yes, he is. He’s adapting just fine for someone who is supposed to be dead. I keep wanting to poke at him, make sure he doesn’t start falling apart on me. I have Jarvis on alert, just in case he starts moaning, ‘braaaaiiins’ one day and tries to take a chomp out of Barton. Sniffing him isn’t a hardship, the man smells good but I think he’s getting a little tired of me checking him out every morning,’ continued Tony, his voice becoming sharper. The look he pinned Fury with would have made Hawkeye proud.

Fury fought the urge to squirm under Tony’s black glare. ‘He won’t turn into a zombie, Stark. He’s very much alive.’

‘Funny you should say that, Director Fury, because I seem to recall you thought he was dead. You even had the cards to prove it.’ Tony’s mouth tightened and in a flash, Fury saw more than the shadow of his father in his face; it was almost as if Howard had taken over, his expression and his voice sounding eerily like a man long dead. Which was ironic, given the circumstances.

‘He wasn’t dead. I was hedging my bets. I was making sure that everything Coulson had worked for wasn’t going to get thrown aside just because you and everyone else on the team were too busy tearing into each other to team up instead. I was willing to do most anything to stop the threat that Loki brought to us and if I hadn’t done it...if I hadn’t pushed like I did, you might never have pulled yourself together and made it work,’ growled Fury.

‘And we might have! We’ll never know now, will we? Because you put us into a no win situation where our loyalty to Coulson, our ties to him would bind us tight to each other and you knew this. You knew what you were doing when you threw those cards on the table. You knew just how to play us and you did a fine job of it. You got what you wanted, Fury. You got your team and we took care of the Chitauri and Loki and the Tesseract. You were able to give the big fuck you to the Council and walk away the big winner.’

Tony clapped his hands slowly, sarcastically. ‘Well done, Fury. Well, done. We were your puppets and danced to your tune and were a pretty sight as we set up everything for you so you could win. So now what? What happens next? When the next thing happens because there will be a next thing, I can guarantee it...what happens next? Do we get called out again? Will it be the Avengers to the rescue one more time? You’re going to call us and expect us to go out and do something. Only this time, we have Coulson and you can’t make us do anything.’

Fury laughed, derisively, roughly. ‘Stark, you are such a baby to this. I can’t make you do anything? I can make you dance any damn tune I want and you’ll ask me how fast and how long and what should you wear. Agent Coulson and Agent Barton and Agent Romanov are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and even though you are forgetting that, rest assured they are not. They might be upset now but their practical natures will have them see that what I did was the right thing to do, in the end. Give them a few months and they’ll be ready and willing to go out and do the next assignment. That is what they are trained for and that is what they do.’ Fury leaned towards Tony, his hands gripping the desk in front of him. ‘You think you’re the tail wagging the dog when in reality, this is how it is. I’m the dog and I call the shots. Tail, meet dog,’ said Fury, gesturing to Stark first, and then himself in illustration. ‘In the end, Stark, if the innocent out there are crying for help, if they’re being slaughtered in front of your eyes, you will suit up with the rest of them. For all your buffoonery and shenanigans, when push comes to shove, you won’t stand by and let others be hurt. After all, you are a philanthropist, are you not?’ 

Tony breathed in deep and resisted the urge to spit at Fury like a llama on his last nerve. The image amused him, though, and it helped steady him. He calmed himself down, feeling the fire that was raging through his body cooling down to embers. A breath in, another breath out, another breath in...hey, this zen thing worked. He’d have to thank Banner when he got back to the tower but first...

Tony twirled the pen in his hands again, glancing at its gleaming edges, and then set it down on Fury’s desk with a click. 

‘I am a philanthropist. I am also an inventor and a designer of the kind of technology that S.H.I.E.L.D. creams their panties over in their wildest dreams. They want what I make so badly, the things that I know how to make that can destroy and conquer. You need me, you need the team, to do your dirty work, Fury. I get that. You’re right. I won’t stand by and let others be hurt. I know Captain America sure as hell won’t and Thor, once he takes a stand, is nigh unstoppable.’ Tony laughed, remembering his conversation with Loki. ‘We may take a while to get ourselves put together. We are, shall we say, diverse folk with issues aplenty. But once we get focused, once we know what our target is...’ Tony looked at Fury, his gaze level on with Fury’s. ‘Well, as I told a certain foolish god, we’re going to do our damndest. Good day, Director Fury,’ he said, tipping his head as he turned and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Fury sat down, his expression thoughtful. He picked up the pen Tony had put on the desk and turned it back and forth between his fingers, thinking over the conversation. Well, that could have gone much more poorly than it did. The schematics caught his eye, and Fury turned back to the screen, soon engrossed in studying them once more, the pen laying forgotten on the desk in front of him.

*****

The next day, he came into the office to find his desk piled up with interoffice envelopes in his inbox.

‘What the..?’ Fury muttered. He opened up the first envelope to find the paperwork from a week ago returned to him, along with a sticky note on top. He tore off the note and looked at it. ‘What do you mean, not signed? Of course it’s signed, you clowns!’ he snorted as he flipped through the pages to find the signature page. Which wasn’t signed. What in the seven blazes was going on?

He signed it with a flourish, his irritation flaring along with the broad stroke of the black pen. He put it back in the interoffice envelope, set it in the outbox area, and opened up the next interoffice envelope. Which had the same information in it, except for different paperwork. 

Fury sighed and then opened up the other envelopes to peek inside. His guess was right; every single envelope contained paperwork that he’d signed the week before whose signature line was now blank.

Fury signed the paperwork again, growling under his breath about pranksters and idiots, and piled the envelopes into the outbox. He had better things to do with his time than sign paperwork he knew damn well had been signed by him the first time around. 

He turned his attention back to the computer and fired off some emails to departments, telling them that he had signed the paperwork that had been sent back to him and that if any pranksters wished to own up now, his displeasure might remain muted. Might.

Satisfied, he turned back to reading the other mail that was hidden beneath the stack of interoffice envelopes.

*****

A week later, the same stack of envelopes (Fury eyed them beadily; he was pretty sure they were the same) were on his desk again, along with a new pile of envelopes from the week before. Fury didn’t even bother to check the notes on each missive. He knew what he would find as soon as he flipped the pages over to the signature page and lo and behold, the blank space staring up at him had him snarling in frustration.

What was going on? He had signed the last stack of paperwork and the new paperwork had come in and he had signed that as well with the black p--

Fury picked up the innocuous looking black pen and studied it with suspicion. He sniffed it and could smell nothing but ink. He shook it and nothing happened, although he was careful to hold it at arm’s length. Just in case. The pen stayed the same, not exploding in his hand nor changing in any way. Fury thought back to who else had touched his pen. He had used it only for scratching out his signature and Tony Stark had...

‘Tony Stark,’ he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. 

Just then, there was a faint ‘click’ and the pen opened up a previously unseen seam in its side. Fury hastily set the pen down on his desk and stepped back, holding his gun out at it, safety off. He wasn’t taking any chances.

A little figure was streaming out of the seam and it grew until Fury could see it was a hologram of Tony Stark, dressed as Princess Leia from Star Wars. The outfit was complete, down to the two oversized buns on his head and the long white dress that pooled at his feet. Tony ran his hands down the front of the dress to smooth out any wrinkles and then bent down in the exact pose that Princess Leia was in when she was putting the information into R2D2. 

‘Help me, Obi Wan, you’re my last hope...ooops. Wrong person,’ said Stark, smirking at him as he stood up. ‘Let’s try this again.’ Tony waved his hand and the dress and hair disappeared, and it was just Tony, dressed in his usual attire of heavy metal band t shirt and jeans. 

‘Stark!’ snapped out Fury, the stress headache already moving in for the kill.

Tony gazed up at him, his expression unreadable. ‘So. Now you know. Or at least, you think you know.’

‘Do enlighten me, Stark. What should I be knowing?’ asked Fury, putting the safety back onto his gun and holstering it again. He wasn’t going to feel any more foolish than he did.

‘You should know that the pen has special ink in it. It’s going to show for the first half an hour after you write with it but then fade away to nothing after that. I figured that if it wasn’t caught in that time, whatever you authorized would go through and it wouldn’t be a big problem. But if the paperwork had been sitting there for longer than that time, and then looked at, there would be a problem if the person was checking for your signature. It was no longer there. So you’d get the paperwork back to you and you’d have to re sign it and I know how much you love paperwork.’ Tony paused, a small grin on his face. ‘I don’t know who hates it more, you or Coulson but I digress. Once you figured out it was I who did something to your pen and said my name, the pen was designed to open at that cue, and this would come out. This, being a facsimile of myself. And once I was notified that the pen had opened, I could take over the image and talk to you in real time. Just a little chat between two guys. Now. I wasn’t planning on this deceit going on for long. I have no wish to bring on an early heart attack. I figured turnabout was fair play--after all, eventually, we did find out that Agent Coulson was alive and well--though with no assistance from you. Now you know how it feels to have the tail wag the dog, Director.’ 

Tony waved his hands elaborately in the air. ‘Tail. Dog. Get it? So in the future, when you’re tempted to lie to us again or not tell the exact truth or whatever you do that gets your superspy kicks in, keep this in mind, all right? This time, I let Captain America set the parameters of this little prank. I had Banner help me with the ink, I designed the pen, and Barton, bless his hobo little soul, put it into place with no one being the wiser. Natasha helped me with the outfit and hair,’ added Tony, patting at his head. His mercurial grin faded as he stared at Fury. ‘You wanted a team, you got a team, Fury. For better or worse, you brought us together, you created the Avengers...and when it comes down to it, yeah, thanks. We’re a good team and we have a great handler. Agent Coulson is one hell of a guy. But don’t fuck up like that again. The next time, we let Agent Coulson plan it out. See you around.’

Tony saluted Fury, then blew a raspberry at him as the beam faded away and his form disappeared.

Fury stared at the pen for a few more seconds before breaking into laughter. He had to hand it to them; they had moxie. Besides, he could laugh, cry, or rage. He figured he’d add years onto his life by laughing at the audacity of it all. It would give him plenty of practice for situations in the future, he was sure.

He took the pen and threw it into the trash can with more force than was necessary. Then he opened up his drawer and got out another pen, eyeing its surface suspiciously. His phone vibrated at his hip and he answered it, after seeing who was calling. ‘Yes?’ he said.

‘Don’t worry, Fury. We only designed one pen. You’re safe...for now,’ said Tony, his voice betraying the laughter bubbling out of his throat. ‘Barton, get outta there before Fury blows. You’ve had your fun, sitting in there for days on end. I think you’ve creeped out Fury,’ Tony added, presumably to a comm that he had on that Fury didn’t know about.

There was silence, and then from the air vents across from Fury, there was the cackling of one undoubtably insane archer, retreating footsteps, and then silence. Fury wasn’t able to react fast enough; his mind was still reeling at the fact that Tony had planted Barton in the freaking air vent to watch him. And for how many days? Fury didn’t even want to ponder that.

Fury growled and hit the off button on his phone. He looked over at the huge stack of interoffice envelopes teetering precariously on his desk and sighed, gustily. Then, with the air of a man about to start a Sisyphean task, he opened up the first envelope, took out the papers, and signed his name.

He was about to put it on the outbox pile, paused, and then set it aside. He could wait a half an hour. Maybe an hour, just to be sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the awesome beta, aphrodite_mine.
> 
> Also, to my husband for his immaculate canon reminders.
> 
> And to my brother, for the pen ideas.
> 
> And to the most wonderful Jordan, for the idea--talking to you is dangerous, m' dear--but I loved every minute of it! I always will. :)


End file.
